Post by Application on Nov 17, 2011 12:07:51 GMT -5
You want to tell me what this is all about?
Name: Peter Andrew Kirkland
Street Name: (e.g Lil Sic, G loc, etc.) N/A
As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I take a look at my life and realize there's not much left
I take a look at my life and realize there's not much left
Age: 17 years, one month.
Bitch or Homie: (Girl or Boy?) Male
Cause I've been blastin' and laughin so long that
Even my ma'ma thinks that my mind is gone[/font][/size][/b]
Where you from?: Bridlington, United Kingdom.
Whatchoo do?: (Occupation) Student in college, considering entering the police-force.
Who you be reppin?: (Affiliation) N/A
But I ain't never crossed a man that didn't deserve it
Me, be treated like a punk, you know that's unheard of
Me, be treated like a punk, you know that's unheard of
How you do: (Personality)
[/li][li] Occasionally childish.
[/li][li] Quite intelligent.
[/li][li] Shy.
[/li][li] Determined.
[/li][li] Inadvertently honest (almost insulting without meaning to be).
[/li][li] Protective.
[/li][li] Kind-hearted.
[/li][li] Easy-going.
[/li][li] Sometimes lashes out when emotional.
[/li][li] Cheery.
[/li][li] Inquisitive.
[/li][li] A bit naïve.
[/color]
You better watch how you talkin, and where you walkin
Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk
Your thing: (likes)
[/li][li] The sea.
[/li][li] Books.
[/li][li] Games (both board and electronic).
[/li][li] Exploring new areas.
[/li][li] Collecting quirky trinkets to represent those he cares for.
[/li][li] Law.
[/li][li] Animals.
[/li][li] His family (ish).
[/li][li] Ice Cream and other sweets.
[/color]
I really hate to trip, but I gotta loc'-
As they grew I see myself in the pistol smoke, fool
Not your thing: (dislikes)
[/li][li] His step-father.
[/li][li] His occasional inability to express his feelings.
[/li][li] Being considered an idiot.
[/li][li] When someone he cares about betrays him.
[/li][li] Seeing vulnerable people being picked on by the strong.
[/li][li] People who have no consideration of others.
[/li][li] Hospitals.
[/color]
I'm the kinda G the little homies wanna be like
What you been through: (History, at least 100 words)
Peter was the first and only child of Andrew (hence his middle name) Kirkland and Anne Harwood-Kirkland. Born to the sea-side town of Bridlington, Peter spent his first few years of life on the beach, playing in the sand and learning to swim in his younger years, and then going out with his father to fish when he became older. However, when his father joined the Navy his idyllic childhood came to an abrupt end. Peter was only ten years old when he and his mother received the official letter claiming his father had been lost at sea, and it was only a few weeks later when they found themselves homeless as his mother had struggled with the rent.
Though the lovely young widow had a school-education and charming general manner, she had been out of work since the duration of her pregnancy and as such she struggled in the already tense economy to find work. Eventually she found work at a local restaurant as Peter worked any odd jobs he could around school to help. It was at this job wherein she met a businessman who was immediately taken by her air of vulnerability and her beauty… Peter hated this man immediately, and he would soon discover that the feeling was mutual.
During the time of her mother’s courtship Peter had been travelling often (and a long way alone for a young boy) to visit his favourite cousin, Arthur. When Arthur and his family left for Polaris the young adolescent found himself at a loss… and when his mother eventually married her new beau Peter had had enough. It had been a difficult thing to procure, but Peter managed to plead with an old fisherman friend of his father’s to take him with him across to America. The thirteen-year-old’s adoration of the sea increased further on the journey, and despite the hardships he felt closer to his father than he had in a long time.
Finding Polaris wasn’t easy, and it took him about a fortnight of potentially dangerous hitch-hiking and walking until he reached his destination. It was by pure chance that he happened to come across his cousin again--- in the arms of some loud, brash American he instantly gained a liking of.
After a severe telling-off by his ever-responsible cousin, Peter managed to settle down end enrolled into the American equivalent of secondary-school and proceeded into college. Growing into his mid-late teenage years in Polaris meant that Peter saw many things that he had never even heard of before, and in the severely law-challenged environment he found himself wanting to do what was right, to help people… He wanted to be a policeman. Surely his father would be proud of that, right? He hoped so.
Life had settled into something of a comfortable routine for him (teasing Arthur about his relationship with Alfred, going to school and working little odd jobs for extra pocket-money) until recently… When he had gained his first crush. And, not only was this startling enough for him –he’d always been a late-bloomer in these things- but the gender of his crush was even more startling. Much like his cousin Arthur he’d fallen for someone of the same gender; something he was currently struggling to adjust to.
On my knees in the night
Other shit:
Peter has the tendency to believe a lot of what he’s told and sometimes that means he’s easy to be taken advantage of by anyone unscrupulous enough to do so.
He’s very loyal to those he cares about and sometimes this can get him into trouble with the wrong people.
He has a fear of being trapped in small spaces and is sometimes a bit iffy about thunder as well; he has sensitive ears and loud noises sometimes startle him.
In a small ornate wooden box that he brought with his first decent amount of saved up pocket-money Peter keeps the service-medal that arrived in honour of his father along with the letter denoting his demise. When he goes out he wraps the medal into a sky-blue handkerchief and carries it in his pocket.
Sayin prayers in the street light
Show us what you got: (RP sample)
300 words minimum
Sometimes it was really hard to keep going. Peter had never considered himself a quitter (bloody hell… even thinking it made his stomach drop, especially when he considered what his father would have said if he’d ever found out) but sometimes he just really… wanted to stop. It was just… so lonely. Though he sometimes cursed his mother with everything he had he ended up crying in shame and pleading for forgiveness afterwards because for whatever she had done wrong she was still his mother. She was still half of the reason he was even in this world at all.
Scrubbing his sleeve over his eyes the dirty-blonde pulled himself up from his desk chair and moved across to his little window, pulling himself onto his window-sill and curling up there. Even though their Polaris neighbourhood was hardly a picturesque beach or green park like back home, Peter supposed it could be worse. He could be one of those poor unfortunate people who he saw that slept on the street underneath newspapers and who smelled like that rubbish barge that he and his father had passed by years back on their boat. Absently he reached into his chest-pocket, seeking.
Touching the well-worn fabric of his handkerchief Peter opened it up momentarily and then touched the old medal within. Despite his best efforts to keep it maintained the age was beginning to show on the old emblem. Closing his eyes momentarily Peter took a deep breath; whoever said that the pain went away eventually lied. It never got better and you never forgot.
Glancing at the clock he supposed he was going to have to make himself something to eat… He had had a late night the night before and hadn’t eaten much during the day so he had to get himself back on track. If he didn’t then Arthur would get all-parenty on him, shouting, which Peter would probably ignore, and then Al would make him feel bad by using that infallible logic he had. Peter didn’t stand a chance against them.
Heading into his little kitchen Peter began to fix himself a simple meal, startling a little when his mobile suddenly went off in his pocket. Smiling slightly as he saw the name on-screen he took a breath to calm himself and answered brightly, “Raivis, hullo!”
Been spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise
